


A Father's Love

by BlixaLooksCarsick



Category: Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei, persona - Fandom
Genre: After Ending, After Game, F/M, Family, Home, Morning After, Parents, farewell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlixaLooksCarsick/pseuds/BlixaLooksCarsick
Summary: It's almost time to return to his hometown. Akira finds himself troubled about what awaits him there. The relationship between father and son is often a delicate matter, especially so when the latter is branded a criminal.





	A Father's Love

**Author's Note:**

> My writing usually doesn't feature the ideal when it comes to relationships, family and the undertakings of heroes. The Persona series (sometimes even the mainline MegaTen also) has given me fertile ground to entertain the notion of things going well, of friendships lasting and happiness being in the horizon. This is my first venture into exploring happy endings, a dimension of writing I'd like to be acquainted with more.

With all that had gone on throughout that year, some words were left unsaid, and some topics went undiscussed at the table in LeBlanc. Akira did not resent his friends for never bringing up the subject past a few words, however; at times, he himself wished to disown the knowledge. It had been much easier before, but as his final month in the city ran out of days, the awareness of what awaited him back in his hometown glared at him stark, whether in bed as his eyelids grew heavy or behind the counter at Boss’ café. It was the matter of his parents, of a mother who was always busy and a father who was rarely around.

There were a few calls every two weeks or so. They all came from his mother Masako, who found time in her schedule to hear from her son and to impart the same advice she always did: to stay away from strangers, keep only to his studies and go to sleep early. In truth, only the last he heeded, and that was mostly at the insistence of his cat-friend Morgana. Even though he could say nothing on the matter, Akira felt these calls helped him stay serene during those first months as a Phantom Thief, when the righteousness of their cause was still an uncertain matter. Even as he grew more confident and skilled, the Phantom Thieves’ leader deeply appreciated hearing from his mother.

But no word from his father. Takahisa Kurusu was a difficult man – Masako and Akira knew this better than anyone, but nobody expected him to regard his son so coldly upon hearing that he allegedly assaulted a man and a woman on his way back from school. Everything about that claim looked unreliable upon first listen, and Akira was known to be a discreet child, unlikely to act through violence. Still, the weight of disgrace quickly heaped on Akira, as lights in the neighbourhood switched on, one by one, and people began murmuring. And all of it was still a lighter burden than the silence of his father. 

Even as the bus drove away, turning the little coastal town into a spec in the distance, Takahisa said nothing. His thoughts, and the matter of whether he yet cared for his son, hidden behind dark, stern eyes. One hour later, he was picked up at the station by the man who was to be his guardian for the following year. Although Sojiro Sakura seemed to view Akira as nothing but a nuisance, his demeanour betrayed some inkling of warmth. It was perhaps the moderation of his words or his tone, or the faint smell of coffee inside of the car, but Akira started feeling somewhat calmer as they merged into the Tokyo traffic. Almost one year later, Sojiro – also affectionately known as Boss – was as much of a father as Takahisa was.

Perhaps even more than, Akira thought sometimes, much to his own discontent. 

The young man had always possessed an ability for concealing the peaks of his own temperament by adopting a masque of cool serenity. While never maliciously, he knew how to measure his words; but what he did say usually reverberated with devilish wit. The slump to his walk was a front for great acuteness in hand and will. His friends knew this, especially those with whom he shared the nom de guerre of Phantom Thieves. But there was one in particular who saw past it all: the image of delinquent he was branded with, the masquerade of discretion, the sum of traits weaved into Joker’s make. 

Makoto Niijima was the school council president at Shujin High School - a young woman of sharp mind and unwavering heart and strength; these qualities had earned her the position of lieutenant by unanimous decision. Her commanding aura, skills, and a slight measure of attraction on Joker’s part resulted in her code name being Queen. As circumstances played out, having Joker and Queen at the helm of the team proved extraordinarily efficient. But something else had developed behind the masks of the Metaverse. Gravitating to one another, Akira and Makoto’s friendship developed into deeper affection and intimacy. And before they knew it, they were having the time of their lives together.

But even such great joys may sometimes cast a shadow. It was two after days Valentine’s, and Akira’s return to his hometown drew imminently near. By now, Makoto had grown to know her boyfriend so deeply that she could see the darkness hanging at his brow. There was trouble, and she knew he would try to hide it away, whether by his unassuming bespectacled look, his devious demeanour, or the steam rising gently from his cup of coffee across from her seat at LeBlanc.

“Akira, you know you can tell me anything, right?” She said, quite out of the blue. Up until that moment, their conversation was entirely leisurely; whether they would go to Ichigaya sometime to fish a treat for Morgana, perhaps an afternoon spent whole at a bookstore, and notably the prospect of exploring Akira’s forehead after Makoto combed his hair “for science’s sake”. 

“Um… yes. Thank you, Makoto.” The sudden change in tone left him speechless for a moment. He attempted a swift return to light chatter, but he knew better than to simply disregard Makoto’s remark. “Is this about something in particular?” He asked with as casual a tone as he managed.

“I don’t know, Akira. You tell me.” She fixed her eyes on his. However, her gaze was neither prying nor judging. Her tone and the subtle slant of her head gave her words and air of compassion. “I mean, don’t feel obligated to tell me if you feel uncomfortable. But you know I can tell.”

The memory of Christmas Eve fractured Akira’s attempts at disguising his feelings. He could not bring himself to let her know that he was to turn himself in to consummate Shido’s arrest, and more importantly, to protect his friends. But all the same, Makoto could read the unease and the sadness writhing in him over something he would not say. Disconsolation accompanied her the whole way home; loneliness settled mercilessly over him. It was a miserable night for both, and neither slept, only browsing through their text messages in a futile attempt at reaching out towards the other.

“I do.” Akira sighed defeated. “It’s a family thing.”

“I see.” Makoto realised she knew next to nothing about Akira’s family. She (accurately) reasoned her boyfriend avoided the topic so as not to strike a painful nerve. But the ache of loss was something she learned to cope with serenely. She never did tell him the topic was not a taboo to her. Now seemed an appropriate time to make it clear, plus she furtively entertained the idea of someday meeting her boyfriend’s parents. “You can tell me. It’s no problem, Akira.” 

Makoto’s smile was a most peculiar sight. To most people at Shujin, it was sagely. To Futaba Sakura – also known as Oracle - it was motherly. To Akira, it was a kind of tenderness he could not help but reciprocate. He thought about her dream of becoming police commissioner in order to deliver justice and to protect the innocent and vulnerable, and he found himself smiling as a reflex. Had someone like Makoto been in charge of the police from the beginning, there would have never been a need for the Phantom Thieves. 

“Alright, why not?” A knot came undone inside of him. “I’m thinking about mum and dad back home.” Makoto noted the strain on the word ‘home’. “I just wonder if things will be okay.”

“Why wouldn’t they be? Your innocence has been proven and their son is a fine young man. He’s smart, he’s kind…” Her hand reached out to his head, picked a strand in the tangle of his hair and played with it. “… and quite handsome, if I do say so myself.” She tried not to smile at having stolen a page from Joker’s book.

“Haha, I guess.” Akira looked slightly bashful. “Thing is, I’m not sure how my dad feels about me.” He cringed in shame despite his girlfriend’s reassurance.

“Do you two have a complicated relation?”

“Yeah. I mean, he has a complicated relation with everybody. But… he’s given me the cold shoulder since that night.”

“What do you mean?” 

“As in, the expression or…?” Akira arched an eyebrow. His wit briefly peered in to keep the mood from getting heavy.

“As in, has he not talked to you?” Makoto was not amused.

“Yeah, not even a call. Not for the duration of my life in Tokyo.” He attempted to look stoic about the matter, but saw his own ache reflected on Makoto’s face.

“Akira…” She was at a momentary loss for words. “What about before, how were things then between you?”

“Fine, I guess. As fine as could be with him, anyway.”

“You make him sound like a difficult man.” 

Akira chuckled, genuinely amused. 

“Yeah, that’s actually what my mother says about him. He’s difficult, but he’s not a bad man by any means.”

“That’s a relief.” Makoto nodded. “Well, if he’s just ‘difficult’ as you say, I’m sure he won’t be indifferent when he learns you were falsely accused.”

“I do hope so. Would be uncomfortable to stay there for a year like that. May be troublesome to show up with a cat.” 

They shared a laugh. It felt alleviating to unearth the subject in such easy stride. Something clicked in Makoto’s thoughts a second later, however.

“Wait, a year?”

“Oh yeah, I’d like to come back to Tokyo, for a nice while longer.” Akira said. In reality, a ‘nice while longer’ meant long term for him. Ever since his friends succeeded in garnering the support and means to release Akira from juvenile hall, he has spent the final minutes of each night mulling over a difficult decision, a question he had never contemplated before, that of his future.

“Oh!” Makoto felt her head grow noisy from multiple lines of thought in fray for dominance. The practicality of the matter contended with the sheer joy of him returning to Tokyo for what he seemed to mean longer than one year. “Care to let me know about this?” She barely managed to mask her own excitement – Akira gave no sign of noticing.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking of my future, professionally.” He looked around, his eyes absorbing the café’s walls, its lighting fixtures, its populated shelves and the lustre on the counter. “You could say I found my calling. I learnt to make a decent cup of coffee, and the best curry ever. But that’s not enough. I must learn more if I want a chance at entering the café business. There aren’t many cooking schools back home, though.”

“I take it you’ve found an alternative?” Curiosity put a peculiar tinge in her voice. 

“Oh, yes. Hattori Culinary School. It’s here in Tokyo. So, when I go back as a third year, it will be all work and no play for Akira, but I know it’ll be worth it.” The little devil in him peered through his eyes with a smirk. “I only need to be half as excellent as you, and I’ll get right in.” 

“You must do better than that!” Makoto said enthusiastically. 

“I’m still thinking on the rest, accommodation, money and all. But that’s what I want to do.”

“You know I got your back, Akira.” Makoto smiled.

“I know.” Akira reached forward, grabbing Makoto’s hands and planting a warm his on the back of her palms. Her cheeked flushed red, and so did his. “I may need your help convincing mum and dad to let me.” He said, half in jest.

“About that,” she threw him a quizzical look. “I am genuinely curious. What do your parents look like?”

“Hmm.” Akira dug into the pocket on his jeans for his cell phone. “I have a picture or two, I think.” True enough, he found a two year old picture of his parents and him. It was taken at a small fair. He recalled it had been a fun day. His mother had allowed herself a couple of days with no work concerns and his father dared a smile every now and then. “Here they are,” he said, giving his phone to Makoto, “mum’s a nurse, and dad is a fisherman.”

“I see!” Makoto did not bother to hide her fascination. “Well, I can see where that unruly hair comes from – your mother is a beautiful woman, Akira. And that’s your dad, huh...?” She paused, eyes widening. “That’s a lot of facial hair.”

“Yeah, he does have a rather mighty beard.” He chuckled. 

With eyes still on her boyfriend’s phone, she reached out for Akira’s face. A soft hand settled over his cheek, which Akira cupped with his own, only to realise it may be more than a sweet gesture.

“You know, I don’t think I’m getting any hair on my face anytime soon.”

“Only time will tell,” Makoto winked. Suddenly, the roles had reversed and Joker found himself prey to embarrassment. 

“Yeah, right.” Akira shook his head. “You know, I really want my parents to meet you. I know they’d adore you.” Akira smiled warmly, seemingly beaming at the prospect of it.

The time passed, one day at a time until a dreaded date arrived. It was time for Akira to return to his hometown. Each farewell enticed him to break the rules again, to just stay a while longer, but he knew what had to be done. He knew that this would be a temporary parting. On Valentine’s Day, Makoto asked him about their future together, how would they manage a long distance relationship, and his answer came at a heartbeat. It was the first and only thing in his mind. “Come with me,” he said. She did not give a definite response, but the piercing answer definitely reached her heart.

In the end, he never expected that she would indeed choose to come with him, that she would gather all their comrades to drive him to his hometown themselves. This short road trip translated into a deserving finale to their career as Phantom Thieves, a brief adventure that would stay in their memories forever. But upon arrival to their destination, Akira could not dream on letting them go without playing host to his beloved guests. 

After showing them around town and enjoying one final sunset, he treated them to dinner under his roof. Only Makoto seemed uneasy at the prospect, knowing what troubled her boyfriend a month ago. Still, Akira beamed with confidence as he led the former Phantom Thieves to his doorstep. She knew Boss had a lengthy phone call with Akira’s parents about the disclosure on Masayoshi Shido unjustly incriminating their son, and desperately hoped that would do to mend the relation between father and son. When they arrived, however, only Akira’s mother was home.

“Mum!” Akira beamed, hurrying ahead to embrace his mother, who had hastily sprung from her chair in their humble living room to hold her son. “I missed you so much, mum.” If only for one moment, this place seemed to be as much of a home as LeBlanc turned out to be while in Tokyo. If indeed Akira was to return, this parting would be no less painful. 

“Oh, Akira! Sakura-san told us everything! I knew it! I just knew it!” Masako was on the verge of tears. While she showered her son with praise, relief, blessing and finality to her concerns, his companions looked around them at the small but cosy place. On the outside, it looked no different from the Shibuya suburbs where Makoto lived, but on the inside, the place was strongly rural, with shelves holding pictures everywhere, as well as a few small paintings hanging on the walls. Yusuke – also known as Fox – had a strongly artistic inclination and was quick to notice the pieces of sailing memorabilia modestly placed around the living room. Makoto did as well, but her attention was devoted to making sure everybody was in place to be properly introduced as good manners commanded.

“Mum. Let me introduce my friends. They drove me here. Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, Futaba Sakura, Yusuke Kitagawa, Haru Okumura…” Then, with a smile he looked towards Makoto. Akira and Makoto started dating while still engaged in their work as Phantom Thieves. Throughout that time and afterwards, they had kept their relationship under wraps. But the moment he introduced her to his mother was almost an open admission about the bond they shared. Their friends did not seem to notice. “This is Makoto Niijima.” Masako’s eyebrows rose as she turned to look at her son, who responded proudly with a smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Kurusu-san.” Makoto bowed.

“The pleasure is mine, Niijima-san. You can call me Masako. That goes for all of you too!” Akira’s mother smiled. “Make yourselves at home.”

“And this is Morgana. He’s a very well behaved cat. He won’t be any trouble, I promise. He’ll stay in my room and outside and he won’t be shedding his fur on anything, I promise. Let me put some water to boil. I’m making coffee for everybody.” Akira spoke quickly, brooking no chance for his mother to forbid Morgana staying. This was a side of Akira nobody had seen before. Ann and Futaba exchanged looks with an identical smirk on their faces. 

It fell then to Morgana to win Masako over. Although she would hear only a seemingly unending stream of meowing, the rest knew he was formally introducing himself to Akira’s mother, calling himself his protector and benefactor and promising to keep her son in line. He also swore to be tidy and that no foul smells would ever be due to him. Now Makoto struggled not to laugh out loud Masako seemed at least willing to give Morgana a chance, but her eyes revealed for the first time a distinctively strict character. Truly, Akira’s character was formed under as loving an upbringing as it was stern.

All introductions done, Masako took a seat among Akira’s friends, specifically next to Makoto. Meanwhile, Akira was busy brewing coffee for all. He looked more than confident in flaunting the skills he had acquired under Boss’ care, even if it was barely more than stirring a spoonful of ground coffee in a cup. During the conversation, Makoto was pleased to see how everybody was on their best behaviour, especially Ryuji, whose manners faltered more often than not. Masako assured them they were all welcome to spend the night before leaving the next day. She pressed on the point even after Makoto said they would be happy to stay at a hotel. Masako’s voice, though kind, was unyielding on the matter, and the one formerly known as Queen knew better than argue with one who could also easily wear such a moniker. 

One hour later, conversation remained lively. Masako looked more than happy at knowing the kind of friends her son had made throughout the year. Akira partook of the moment while stationed at the counter, throwing joyous looks at Makoto every now and then. All were in the mood for another cup, even Ryuji who started to appreciate the beverage if coupled with milk. The moment seemed as if it could on forever, but an unexpected arrival turned everybody’s head to the door.

Makoto, through having seen him in Akira’s cell phone, looked baffled at the image of the man. The picture did him little justice. He certainly had Akira’s dark eyes and hair black as night. His thick beard looked ever darker in contrast with his sun-leathered skin. This much was familiar. But Akira’s father turned also to be a titan of a man. His height and build, through discreetly covered in a dark green woollen sweater, looked akin to the Shadow of a man they faced in the Metaverse, to the hulking, distorted shape of one Masayoshi Shido. Makoto felt a chill sliding up her spine, and quickly minded her expression. Nobody else did the same, however, as they sat there gawking. She swore Futaba uttered a frightened whimper.

“Dad.” Akira said from the counter. His tone was acknowledging and confident, but distant.

“Son.” Takahisa’s low voice rumbled in the pit of their stomachs. Makoto tried to search Akira’s expression but the bulwark that was his father obstructed her view. If what Akira said was true, this would be the first time his father acknowledged him since that infamous night.

“Oh, Takahisa. Look here, these are Akira’s friends! They drove him all the way from Tokyo. Here, come! This young lady is Makoto-san.” Masako gleefully introduced her. “This is Ryuji-kun. This lady over here is Ann-chan. Yusuke-kun over there. Haru-chan, and this lady over here, she’s Futaba-chan – she’s Sojiro’s daughter! Oh, we have so much to thank your father for, Futaba!”

“Heh, it’s good.” Futaba’s voice trembled a little.

Takahisa did not reply immediately. His eyes slowly scanned each of Akira’s friends, briefly settling on Makoto. “Nice to meet you.” His voice contained no warmth. 

“Dad. Do you want a cup of coffee?” Akira’s voice fetched them all from the pit of terror they suddenly found themselves in.

“Maybe later.”

“Takahisa. They won’t be sailing tomorrow then?” Masako called.

“No. Probably next week.” He sounded slightly more affable when talking to his wife. Nonetheless, Makoto wondered if Takahisa could truly convey warmth, let alone smile as he did on Akira’s memory.

“Won’t say that’s a shame. It means you can accompany us tonight. Make sure to join us after you are done.”

“Yes.” Having said that, Akira’s father retreated upstairs, surely to take care of something related to his trade. 

“Please pardon Akira’s father. He’s not a people person.” Masako looked apologetic. “Anyway, Yusuke-kun, you were saying you painted this “Hope and Desire”, was it?”  
“Oh, yes. It was an arduous process, not to work on the painting itself, but…”

Thus, the evening turned to night and as eyelids grew heavy, each found a comfortable to sleep. Akira was absent at several points in the night, as he was busy preparing his room to house his friends. Naturally, he would take a couch and leave the bed the others, by which he intended Makoto, but she was the last to turn in, so she too would be sleeping on the couch or the floor. Despite himself, Akira gave in and ended up falling asleep. While he slumbered, Makoto took the liberty of caressing his hair while he watched him for a few minutes, enthralled by the occasion, but also unwilling to greet the morning, as they would leave for Tokyo after breakfast. Too restless to sleep, Makoto allowed herself the indulgence of going downstairs for a glass of water. But as she approached, the sight of Takahisa sitting at the counter made her flinch. She backed away, silent and careful, all for naught.

“Makoto-san, was it?” Takahisa’s voice was quieter, still rumbling as thunder.

“Yes. I apologise, Kurusu-san. I did not mean to intrude. I’ll go back to sleep now.”

“You came down for a reason. Do you need something?” His voice did not give off any impatience or displeasure, but she would not take any chances to upset him.

“I came for a glass of water.” She said, timid.

“I’ll get that for you.” 

Makoto watched him fill a tall glass of water from a jar. He put in two ice cubes from the small fridge as well. 

“It was lukewarm.” He said as he handed her the glass. Makoto took it with confidence, sure that she had nothing to fear.

“Thank you, Kurusu-san.”

“Come sit. It’s uncomfortable to drink standing.” 

As Makoto approached, she noticed Takahisa was reading the day’s newspaper on the counter. For a moment, she wondered if the man suffered from insomnia as the darkness around his eyes appeared to suggest.

“I don’t often hear people calling me Kurusu-san.” Takahisa said.

“Oh…” Makoto did not know what to say in response.

“That is because it’s Masako’s family name. I had none when growing up.” He said, eyes still on the newspaper, though he did not seem to actually be reading it.

“Would you prefer me addressing you as Takahisa-san?” Makoto sat next to him.

“However you like...” He tapped his fingers against the newspaper, rhythmically, as if exploring his thoughts in search for something to say. “There’s something I want you to know, Makoto-san.”

“Yes, Takahisa-san?”

“What are you to Akira?” His tone did not grow in intensity or volume. Still, the question shook her.

“I am his friend.” 

“Only that?” 

Makoto stayed quiet for a moment.

“… No. We are... together.”

“I thought so. Masako has a way of telling me things. She makes sure I understand. She’s a good woman, a good nurse, and a good mother.”

“I agree. I can tell by looking at Akira.” She said without thinking.

“You care for my son, I can see that… Do you know that I didn’t talk to him when they told us he was accused of assault?”

“Yes.” Her better sense told her she should lie about it, if at least for the sake of good manners, but she both sensed he would know if she did, and he had point he was trying to make.

“I see. That’s because I was afraid that he would be turning out like me when I was his age. I see that was wrong now. But that night, I felt disappointed, not on him. On me. I thought that I was not the father I should have been and that’s why he turned out like that. My work takes me away from home a lot, so I guess that’s close to growing up without a father or a mother, like I did.” The man’s expression did not change at all, in spite of the sadness in his voice. Little he knew, Makoto was no stranger to that experience. “I’m glad I was proven wrong. I’m glad that he made good friends.”

“He is a good person.” Conviction and love shone in her voice.

“I don’t know what you two will be doing, but I have a favour to ask of you. Please, look after my son. Take good care of him.” He turned to look at Makoto. There was warmth in his eyes.

“I will. But, Takahisa-san? I believe it would do him well if you talked to him, frankly. He needed you throughout the year. Not only his mother: you as well. Akira did so much for me, as he did for each of his friends. I don’t think any of us would be here if it weren’t for him.”

“Is that right?” He looked somewhat ashamed.

“It is. Without a doubt.” All inkling of fear or precaution was gone.

“I see. Drink your water and off to bed, Makoto-san.” His eyes returned to the newspaper as if undertaking a customary task. 

“Good night, Takahisa-san. And thank you.” 

Makoto returned to Akira’s room refreshed. The time on her cell phone was two in the morning. There was yet time to catch sleep, which she would need if she was to drive them all back to Tokyo – drive them all, safe for two. She pushed the thought out of her head as she laid across the couch. She gazed at Akira’s bed where Ann, Futaba and Haru slept. She did not envy them, for at her feet was Akira, sleeping on a mat laid on the ground as did the rest of the boys. His head was in reach, the tangle of his hair that had long become the playground for her fingers. 

Her final thought before giving in to sleep was the certainty that Akira would be well as the year went by. Whatever happened, whether his plan would come to fruition or not – this too would be home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be writing some more, not only about Makoto Niijima and the Protagonist.  
> Take care.


End file.
